Don't close your eyes
I'm right beside you
Don't be afraid I'm never far
You and I were always meant to
Wake the dreamers from the dark
Come out, come out wherever you are!
—Nichole Nordeman, "I Will Believe"
The Resistance generals and commanders had once again gathered in the Command Center, but today there were a few noteworthy additions: the leaders of the unexpected reinforcements who'd arrived at Exegol just in the nick of time. Unlike yesterday's confused cacophany, however, the soldiers and dignitaries talked quietly amongst themselves. Rey had a feeling she knew the topic of conversation as soon as she, Ben, and Finn walked in and a dead silence fell.
Commander D'Acy's eyes widened at the sight of the trio; she glared a furious question at Poe, who coolly refused to look back. Rey's anxiety mounted, but Finn shot her a steady, reassuring look.
"We've got a power vacuum right now," he'd explained as he led Rey and Ben out of the medbay—after, of course, demanding to know why they no longer looked like they'd been stomped on by a couple of AT-ATs. "Now that Leia's gone, there isn't one clear figurehead of the Resistance. Poe's the best candidate, of course, but D'Acy's got seniority and comes from 'noble stock.' Apparently that's supposed to make a difference."
"What do the rest of the people think?" Rey had asked. "Surely they are the ones who get to decide?"
Finn had flashed a grin over his shoulder. "Oh, I think everyone would rather take orders from Poe. And no one would mind taking orders from you, either. Just sayin'."
Rey had frowned, uncertain what exactly he meant by that. If the Resistance thought she'd start throwing her weight around, they were insane. True Jedi, Leia had often reminded her with a wry, self-deprecating look, did not meddle in politics. They advised, encouraged, and warned, but they never held command in that arena.
There were a few, very specific aspects of the Jedi Order Rey wanted to change, but that wasn't one of them.
Entering the Command Center, she immediately felt the tension, thick as mud. All eyes locked on her, then on Ben, then on their clasped hands. Lando, at least, offered her a steadying wink, and Maz Kanata smiled—but everyone else maintained guarded expressions. Ben tightened his grip on her hand; Rey squeezed his right back.
"General," Finn said, locking eyes with Poe. "Master Rey…and the prisoner."
Poe nodded crisply, though Rey detected a pleased glint in his eyes. "Thanks, General. Knew I could depend on you."
"I had an armed escort ready and waiting to bring the prisoner here, Dameron," D'Acy snapped. "You went over my head—"
"No, Commander, I decided it'd be in everybody's best interests to keep this as quiet and discreet as possible," Poe interrupted. "And armed escorts are never discreet."
To Rey's relief, D'Acy didn't argue—though she did close her mouth so fast, her teeth clicked. Poe motioned for Rey to come closer to the gathered leaders. She obeyed, bringing Ben with her until they stood alone in the center of the room. The young Queen of Crestir spoke first, her deep eyes fixed on Ben.
"Before we begin, I have a question," she said, her cultured voice low. "How do you wish to be addressed by the Resistance, moving forward?"
Rey felt Ben's thumb move rapidly along the top of her hand, his only outward indication of nerves.
"My name is Ben Solo," he said quietly. "I don't claim any other name. Or title."
Lando folded his arms with a satisfied, "I-told-you-so" look that he swept across the room. The Queen's regal, composed features relaxed. She glanced at Poe, who took his cue and stepped forward, hands on his hips.
"Rey tells us you're willing to give us any and all information you have about the First Order," he said, clear and authoritative. "I certainly hope for your sake that she's right. But even if she is—even if you prove the most thorough gold mine of First Order secrets we've had since Hux started feeding us info behind your back—you should know that it won't guarantee any particular outcome when we put you on trial. You still have plenty to answer for, and some of us need a lot more convincing that this isn't some ploy to destroy us from within."
Ben nodded, his thumb stilling over Rey's hand. "I understand. And I'm still willing to tell you everything. You simply have to ask."
Poe rocked on his heels, chewed the corner of his mouth, and glanced at Rey. She held his gaze, remembering everything they'd said to each other in the medbay last night. He wasn't the one who needed convincing, she realized. Poe trusted her, if not Ben Solo. It was the others—the ones who didn't know her as well—who would need more evidence.
"Master Rey," Queen Erienn said quietly. "Will you step away from the prisoner, please?"
Rey's stomach sank, but before she could work up the strength to release his hand, Ben let hers go. Surprised, she looked up; he met her gaze with a gentle smile, allowing himself one final, lingering brush of his finger against the side of her hand.
"Don't be afraid," he whispered into her mind. "I won't get cocky with them, I promise."
"You'd better not, Solo," she shot back, fighting back a smile as she took a few steps back. If anyone noticed the intensity of their eye contact, no one said a word—though Commander Siren did clear his throat a little too loudly.
"What can you tell us about the First Order's current position?" he asked. "We know part of the fleet went to Exegol with General Pryde. Where is the rest of it?"
Ben turned to him, a new, resolute precision crossing his dramatic features. "After a defeat like the one they suffered on Exegol, it should take a while for them to regroup. But if Pryde and Hux are dead, that leaves General Ava Cratt in command of the First Order's armed forces. She commands the Dauntless—a First Class Dreadnought. They and the 102nd Legion have been stationed on and above Coruscant for the past eight months."
"Coruscant?" Poe repeated, surprised. "I wouldn't think they'd need much monitoring there. That used to be the capital of the Empire—and they've still got plenty of Sith sympathizers—"
"Nevertheless," Ben said firmly, "the First Order hasn't shown Coruscant much favor. Snoke showed more interest in industry-heavy planets. The people of Coruscant haven't taken kindly to the slight."
"But they're not exactly sympathetic to the Resistance, either?" D'Acy prodded.
Ben shrugged. "The politicians might not be. But there are pockets of Resistance support on Coruscant. I put down a few riots there last year."
D'Acy's eyes narrowed. Ben met her gaze without flinching.
"Okay," Poe said slowly. "What else can you give us?"
Ben squared his shoulders, and for the next half hour Rey watched and listened with mounting pride—and relief—as he unloaded everything he knew. When his memory seemed exhausted someone would simply ask another question, and he'd immediately have the answer. The conversation grew brisk, exciting, yet increasingly relaxed. When Finn pulled up a holo-map and began punching in the information Ben had given them, awed gasps rippled through the room. The First Order's military positions, political allies, industrial strongholds, and pressure points rapidly lit up various locations throughout the splintered Republic's territories.
Armed with this knowledge, the Resistance could finally hit the First Order right where it hurt.
"This is amazing!" Poe cried. "Even Hux never gave us this much information."
Outwardly, Ben remained solemn, but Rey perceived a surge of smug satisfaction through the Bond: "Glad to know I'm still better than him at literally everything." Aloud, however, he called out a string of numbers: "5-9-10-R-3H-145."
"What are those?" Lando asked.
For the first time since they left the medbay, Ben allowed himself a smirk. "My access codes."
Poe and D'Acy stared at each other; before either of them could move, Lieutenant Connix raced to the nearest computer. No one said a word as she punched in the numbers, needing Ben to repeat them for her only once. Rey's heart pounded. If they could just infiltrate the First Order's computer systems…
But a blaring ERROR message appeared on the screen. Ben frowned. Connix straightened, shaking her head.
"Maybe I mistyped," she said. "Let me try again…"
"May I try?" Ben asked.
Connix looked at Poe; to D'Acy's obvious horror he nodded, waving a dismissive hand. Connix stepped aside without hesitation, allowing Ben to lean over the computer. His long, strong fingers flew over the keyboard, and Rey knew he could've punched in that code with his eyes closed.
But this time, the problem was painfully, horrifically obvious.
"ERROR. Invalid Code. This user has been locked out of the First Order Communications System."
The room erupted in startled whispers. Poe swore. Ben jerked away from the computer, and Rey watched in dismay as the horrified realization slipped into his face.
"They know," he said softly. He turned, looking straight at her. "They know."
"What?" she demanded. "What do they know?"
"That I'm alive. And that I've turned."
"But how would they know?!" Poe cried. "We've got the whole kriffing base on lockdown. No news gets off this planet until we've finished this meeting!"
Ben and Rey stared at each other; instantly, she knew every twist and turn of his frantic deductions. Kylo Ren had made a concerted effort to cover his intentions after Kijimi; he hadn't wanted his subordinates to know how desperately he'd wanted to bring the Last Jedi back alive, safe, and on his side. His TIE Whisper would've been traced to Exegol, of course, but the First Order would've expected that. And yes, the Knights of Ren lay dead on the planet—but again, they should've suspected her.
"Who would know the truth, Rey? Against all the evidence, who would suspect—?"
Before he could finish the thought, the doors flew open. Several Resistance soldiers burst in, panic draining all the color from their faces.
"General Dameron! First Order ships are entering orbit! They're bearing down on the moon!"
The room erupted. D'Acy and Poe sprang to their feet and started bellowing orders. The newcomers who'd arrived yesterday barely listened to them, scrambling to contact their own ships and crews. Rey and Chewie locked eyes across the room.
"The Falcon!" she shouted over the noise. He nodded and fled the room in three long strides. Rey ran to Ben, who wore the most conflicted expression she'd seen all morning—but before she could reach him, Poe grabbed her arm. She froze, meeting his gaze.
"Whatever you do," he said, measuring each word, "don't let him out of your sight."
"He won't try to leave," she snapped. He'd never leave me.
"That's not what I'm worried about," Poe replied sternly. "That's not what I'm worried about at all."
Rey suddenly understood. Poe wasn't concerned about Ben seizing the opportunity to escape; he was afraid the First Order might capture him. And what would they do to him, if they know he's on our side now? The thought made her skin crawl, but she managed a quick nod. Poe gave her arm a reassuring squeeze, then ran out of the room.
"I have a bad feeling about this," Ben said as he, Rey, and Chewie clambered aboard the Falcon.
"You shouldn't," Rey retorted, shutting the hatch behind them. "You know this ship like the back of your hand, and you can have your pick of a station—"
Ben grabbed her hand, desperately needing her full attention. "That's not what I mean, Rey. The First Order has been looking for this base for months. Even I was shocked when we got here yesterday and I realized the Resistance has been hiding on Ajan Kloss all this time. How did they find us—and how do they already know I've betrayed them? It makes no sense!"
"And it doesn't matter right now, either," Rey said firmly. "We have a job to do. Now where do you want to fight?"
Ben thought fast. "Gunner station."
"No, you don't," Rey said, smirking. "Get in the cockpit, Solo."
Ben blinked, realized what she'd done, and let out an incredulous huff. "Manipulation of a Force-connection. I call that 'cheating.' "
Rey just raised her eyebrows and made no effort to hide her smug delight. Ben leaned down and kissed her once, hard and quick. She cupped his cheek in her palm and pressed her forehead against his as he broke the kiss.
"Be safe," she whispered. "And don't break my ship."
He allowed himself one soft laugh—and then they tore away from each other, running in opposite directions.
Nothing could've prepared him, however, for the Falcon's cockpit. He'd been in here yesterday, of course—but only as an observer, and only briefly. Now Chewie was making frantic, final preparations for takeoff. He glanced at Ben, hesitated a moment…and stood.
"Here," he growled, gesturing at the pilot's seat. "Defend your mother's people."
Ben stared at him, dumbstruck—then threw himself into his father's old seat and seized the controls. He'd flown the Falcon once as a gangly 16-year-old padawan. Dad had made an unexpected visit to Uncle Luke's Academy, obstensibly for a short visit and a delivery of new art supplies from Mom. Ben knew now that he'd been deeply concerned about his son's state of mind. But Dad hadn't let on about that then, and over Uncle Luke's anxious objections he'd taken Ben "out for a spin" in his beloved rust-bucket. It had been glorious—an honor—and breathtaking fun.
Ben's own natural talent for flying, however, took over now, regardless of the fact that he hadn't operated this ship in fourteen years. With Chewie as co-pilot he steered the Falcon off the ground and into formation with the swarm of other Resistance ships. He slipped on a communication headset so he could communicate with them, but with Rey he simply reached out, projecting reassurance and confidence as well as his solidifying strategy for the oncoming skirmish.
He instantly received her fierce determination and encouragement in return.
"All right, Uncle Chewie," he muttered, curling his fingers around a lever his father's hand rubbed smooth long ago. "Let's teach the First Order a lesson they won't forget."
The last time Rey had manned the gunner station she was trying to divert Kylo Ren's attention away from the Resistance fighters holed up in the salt mines of Crait. The irony wasn't lost on her; she knew from Ben's wry presence in her mind that he was thinking the same thing. She wore a headpiece, setting it to the right channel so she could hear from Poe and the rest of her friends—but with Ben, she simply thought.
This is gonna get more and more convenient over time, isn't it? she wondered a little gleefully.
But there was no time to dwell on the finer points of being one half of a Force-Dyad: they were entering Ajan Kloss' atmosphere, and then, quite suddenly, they were in orbit. One massive First Order destroyer, along with its escorting cruisers and TIE fighters, already waited for them.
"All right, guys, this is it!" Poe shouted over the comms. "Bombers, target that destroyer! The rest of you—not a single TIE gets through the atmosphere! Got it?"
"Not a single TIE," Ben replied, his voice—his actual, physical voice—in Rey's ear. "Got it."
She smiled; hearing that deep voice over the channel must've given the rest of the Resistance fighters a shock. She wrapped her hands around her control columns and blew out a long, bracing sigh.
The battle erupted in seconds. The Millennium Falcon remained the indisputed attack dog of the Resistance: dozens of rebel ships streaked in her wake to confront a cluster of firing TIEs. Ben swerved to avoid a barrage of plasma; Rey opened fire and hit her marks.
"WHOO!" she squealed. "Am I good, or am I good?"
The Bond quaked with Ben's laughter. "You're good, Sweetheart."
She grinned and took aim again. One day, if it was the last thing she did, she'd make him laugh out loud like that.
The destroyer tried desperately to penetrate the atmosphere, but too many of the larger, newcomer Resistance ships pummeled it with explosive payloads. Rey saw it happening out of the corner of her eye, but couldn't give it more attention than that: Ben was taking the Falcon through her paces, cutting corners and dropping and rising just as fast and as capably as she, Poe, or even Han Solo had ever done. When one of the rebel cruisers found itself until a full-blown attack, the Falcon swooped behind its assailants, distracting the TIE pilots and drawing their fire. Rey zeroed all her focus on them, smashing them into sparking oblivion.
"Heads up, First Order!" Poe shouted, his voice thundering through the Resistance channel. "You'll never get through the atmosphere of this moon. Surrender now and we'll let you live. Keep fighting, and we won't let up till we've rammed you and your ships into the ocean down there."
Rey's seat swerved down and to the side as she obliterated another TIE—but before she could make out any response from the destroyer, reality shifted. Similar to the Bond kicking in, the clatter and hum of the Falcon faded into the background and even Chewie's triumphant roars melted away. But Ben's presence weakened, too…not like it had on Exegol when he died in her arms, but more as if something—or someone—had isolated her from him.
Rey tensed, her attention no longer on the battle. She spun in her seat, her gaze darting across the cramped area, her heart pounding. She couldn't see anyone, but somebody was definitely here. And either they were manipulating her connection with Ben, using it to reach her—or they were simply blocking it so she couldn't reach him.
Get to the cockpit, Rey, she told herself, unbuckling herself as casually as she could. Don't panic. Just get to Ben. Whatever it is, you'll be stronger if you're with him. Just get to—
But before she could step out of the gunner station, a voice swooped into her head with such overwhelming intensity, she reeled backwards with a cry.
"Where do you think you're going, Mareya Palpatine?"
"This is where the fun begins," Ben muttered, jerking the Falcon's controls to the side so fast that even Chewie shot him a look of muted alarm. Ben ignored him, steering the ship straight through the perilously narrow space between the destroyer and one of the rebel cruisers currently being drawn in by the destroyer's tractor beam.
The TIEs pursuing the Falcon couldn't maintain their speed or their course in such disorienting close quarters and banged unceremoniously against the destroyer's sides. The combined blasts broke the tractor beam and shoved the rebel cruiser away. Ben glanced through the side window; the cruiser was barely damaged.
He noticed something else, though, as he peered at the destroyer.
"That's the Dauntless," he said, more to himself than to Chewie. "That's Cratt's ship."
Chewie snorted. "Pay attention, Cub. The First Order hates this ship, in case you'd forgotten—and they're still coming after us."
Ben took the point: he quickly leaned back in his seat and swerved the Falcon around. "Here we go again, Rey. Give 'em all you've got."
He received no response. He blinked, lifted his head, probed the Bond, and suddenly realized that it had gone quiet and cold. For a moment he sat there, numb with bewilderment. When he sprang to his feet and ripped off the headseat, Chewie jerked his head up in alarm.
"Wait, where are you—?!"
"Take over!" Ben shouted, already halfway out the cockpit. "Rey!"
No reply. His heart pounded in sheer terror. He hadn't felt the Bond snap—not like he had on Exegol when she fell in a dead and crumpled heap in front of the dark throne. But the fact that it could've gone so silent without him noticing, even in the heat of battle, made him want to smash something. Preferably his own head.
"Rey!" he shouted again. "REY!"
He crashed into the gunner station and froze. Rey stood rigidly in front of her seat, her hand clenched against its back so tightly, her knuckles had gone white. Her hazel eyes stared, wide and terrified, at the wall on his right. Ben stepped cautiously down into the station, following her gaze and keenly aware, as soon as he did so, of a palpable Darkness.
"Rey," he murmured, reaching out a hand. "Sweetheart, look at me—"
But as soon as he touched her bare arm, the Falcon fell away. It was like he'd touched a live wire. Ben jumped, gasped, and opened his eyes in a dark, cold space. The only light came from Rey, who stood ramrod-straight before a tall, graceful figure shrouded in black. The sight of its gloved hand reaching out to her face conjured up one of Ben's most hateful memories: the one from Starkiller Base where he'd tried sifting through her mind.
But Rey was still a fighter. Here, at least, the Bond had snapped back to its vibrant strength, and through it he sensed her fury as well as her fear. With a grunting effort, she reached out her own hand. Her assailant's fingers trembled.
"Who are you?" she whispered, breathless. "Tell me."
The stranger lowered his hooded head, concentrating. "I am Darth Chrallous…Emperor of the Universe."
Rey's jaw clenched. "There's only one person who's ever claimed that title…and he's dead. I killed him."
"I know you did." The stranger lifted his head and tilted it to one side. "I saw you. You and the grandson of Darth Vader, standing alone before the throne. A Force Dyad. The stuff of fairytales."
Ben bristled at the contempt in the Sith Lord's voice, but he didn't dare take a step forward, not yet. Breaking Rey's concentration might prove fatal, though he did sense from the Bond that she knew he was close by.
"The Light has no power here," the stranger murmured, his voice low and disturbingly pleasant voice. "Only the Darkness within us both has any effect within this plane. Use that to fight me, if you will. Unleash your full potential. Don't be afraid of who you are, Mareya Palpatine."
"I…" Rey snarled, "am not…a Palpatine!"
"Of course you are. And so am I. It's in our blood. Just like he—" The stranger suddenly aimed his other hand at Ben. "—has that mighty Skywalker blood running through his veins."
Ben knew as soon as he saw that open palm stretched out towards him what was about to happen: the violent tightening around his throat didn't even surprise him. But for the first time Rey's gaze snapped towards him, her beautiful eyes widening in horror as she flung out her own hand.
"NO!" she screamed. "Ben!"
"Two choices, Mareya," Chrallous murmured. "Two simple choices. Wield the Darkness and save the Last of the Skywalkers, or let him die. Either way, you lose him to the Dark. Accept the inevitable, Empress Palpatine."
Rey's eyes welled with tears, the Bond shuddering with her terror. Ben gasped, the invisible fingers clenching until his vision blurred, but he refused to lift his own hands to his throat. He just closed his eyes, let his head fall back, and focused…focus…FOCUS…
He remembered his refusal to act last night in his prison cell. He remembered how hard it had been to let that rebel—a man whose life he'd ruined—beat him to a bloody pulp. It had been the first and only way to prove to the Resistance that Kylo Ren was dead, however, and so he'd done it willingly.
But this was different. This was very different. Whoever this Darth Chrallous was, he was going after Rey.
And Ben Solo had proven on Exegol that no one would go after Rey without him putting up a fight.
Be with me, he pleaded, choosing to believe this monster was wrong, that the Light still had power here. The Light always had power. His own life was proof of that. Be with me. Be with US.
Instantly, peace and strength enveloped him. Ben brought his head forward and opened his eyes; locking his gaze on the hooded figure, he mentally tore the invisible hand away from his throat and stretched out his own arm. Under the weight of his assault, Chrallous staggered. Hope flickered and grew in Rey's tear-streaked face. She reached out to Ben, and this time he seized her hand without ever lowering his other arm.
The Bond flared. Where before only she radiated any light in this dark plane, now he felt its warmth course through him, too. The ground shook beneath their feet. Rey lifted her hand; with a startled shout, Chrallous actually stumbled and fell back.
"Take this message back to the First Order and any Sith who remain," Rey said, her voice clear and strong as a queen's. "Kylo Ren is dead, but Ben Solo is alive. The Republic will rise faster than you and your allies could ever imagine. And I am not Empress Palpatine. I am Rey Skywalker. I am one half of a Force Dyad, and I am all of the Jedi."
Chrallous tried to stand, but Ben and Rey thrust their palms forward in unison. He flung back with a furious cry, his hood tumbling off his head and revealing a rather normal, handsome, angular face—glittering yellow eyes excepted. Ben released Rey's hand and raised both his own.
"Get…off…our…ship," he growled. He brought both hands down in a fearsome, sweeping motion—and with one last wordless scream of anger and protest, Chrallous vanished.
So did the terrible Darkness. The Falcon materialized around them so fast, Ben lurched and staggered against the wall. Rey clung to him like her life depended on it, gulping air.
"It's all right," he gasped, sliding to an awkward seat on the floor. "It's all right…I've got you, Sweetheart…"
"You did it," she whispered. "I thought he was going to kill you, but you…you broke his power."
She lifted her head and he suddenly realized, contrary to what he'd suspected, that she wasn't crying at all. She was flushed and she still hadn't quite caught her breath, but there was nothing in her eyes except pride and adoration. Before he could speak she crashed her lips into his, kissing him with abandon, running her hands through his hair and all over his face. When she finally pulled back, he blinked at her and laughed breathlessly.
"I was going to offer you all the credit, but if that's the kind of thanks I get, I'll keep my mouth shut."
Rey laughed and sprang to her feet. As he followed her, they peered out the window together. The Resistance had driven back the First Order attackers; the destroyer had even pulled back from the atmosphere, battered from the fierce assault its commanding officer probably hadn't expected. Rey stared at the retreating ship.
"He's on that destroyer," she murmured. "I can sense it."
Ben wrapped an arm around her waist. "He must've been one of the Acolytes on Exegol. How any of them survived—"
Rey shook her head. "No, I think he's the last one. That's why he wanted me to join him. He can't rebuild the Empire on his own. He's powerful, but not that powerful." She looked up at him, eyes wide. "He said he was a Palpatine. And did you hear what he called me? 'Mareya.' That must be the name my parents gave me, Ben. I've always wondered…"
He kissed her forehead. "It doesn't matter. You'll always be 'Rey' to me."
She leaned into him, weary. "I'm so, so glad you came."
"So am I." He held her close, relishing the weight of her against him for one precious moment before giving her hair a gentle little tug. "Come on. Let's go back to the cockpit before Chewie accuses us of going AWOL."
A/N: We're getting pretty close to the end of this story! No more than three chapters left (possibly two, depending on how the upcoming trial unfolds...). Updates may or may not come a bit further apart at this point, though, as I balance between this story, an original novel, a blog, freelance writing, and still more Rey/Ben stories. Whew. I have a lot on my plate.
(But hey, COVID-19 Social Distancing will at least give me a little extra time.)